Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  In the days following Ashayna’s kidnapping, Sorsha discovered Lamarra wasn’t as cold or controlled as she outwardly showed. As for herself, Sorsha began to understand there could be balance between the two. Outwardly, she could be the noble lady, while still secretly protecting her family from the Acolytes and uphold her duty to the empire, thereby honoring her warrior’s heart.

  She just didn’t know how until she’d met Shadowdancer and he’d taught her about her magic. Now she had direction. A purpose. She could learn to balance a woman’s wisdom with a warrior’s heart. If she was allowed to live long enough to explore it.

  “I haven’t heard sounds of pursuit in over a candlemark,” Lamarra said, sounding somewhat surer of herself as she glanced over her shoulder for the second time.

  “You might be right,” Sorsha lied easily. Just because we can’t hear them doesn’t mean they are not still there. “And we’re almost to the rendezvous point. Shadowdancer and the others are faster than our horses. They’ll already be waiting. We just have to get there before Trensler’s men catch us.”

  Lamarra slowed her gelding, allowing him to walk. “Your mare has better stamina than my mount. Ride ahead. Find Ambassador Shadowdancer and then come back for me.”

  Sorsha snorted and arched an eyebrow at her sister. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard…noble…but stupid.”

  Lamarra frowned but urged her gelding back into a trot. “When Trensler catches both of us and drains us dry, don’t blame me.”

  They rode in silence, keeping their own fears close. No good would come from voicing them anyway, Sorsha mused. Instead she turned her attention back to her mare, calling encouragements even though with each passing stride the certainty of failure grew stronger.

  “That’s good, Shadegrove. Once we’re with the Santhyrians, I’ll turn you lose and you can find your way back to your cozy stall. There’ll be warm mush and lots of hay. You’d like that, wouldn’t you girl.” Talking to the mare helped Sorsha ignore the nervous churning of her stomach.

  At the sound of her rider’s voice, Shadegrove swiveled her ears back to listen. When her mistress fell silent, the horse relaxed her silky ears, but after a handful of paces the bay snapped her ears forward again, arched her neck and skidded to a halt. She nickered once, one short questioning call. It was a strange sound, not one Sorsha recalled the mare having made in the past.

  “What is it? What does she hear? We can’t be at the rendezvous site yet.” Lamarra halted her own gelding next to Shadegrove.

  “No. Pray it’s just some predator, or the Santhyrians come to find us and not Trensler’s men.”

  At the slight pressure of her heels on the horse’s sides, the mare began to walk again, if somewhat more reluctantly. Sorsha strained her ears, but at first she didn’t hear any sounds out of the ordinary. After several more heartbeats, she heard the first faint sound of hoof beats. It wasn’t a predator then. At least, not one of the animal variety. There was no way to tell if it was Santhyrians or Acolytes on horseback.

  As the newcomers drew nearer, Sorsha soon discerned the rhythms of at least three horses moving at a furious gallop. Three. Surely it had to be the Santhyrians. In the past the Acolytes had always attacked in greater numbers.

  She hoped her hunch was correct and urged her mare forward into a trot. But as a precaution, she freed her bow and reached behind for an arrow. Lamarra followed close at her heels.

  Just ahead, a huge dark shadow emerged out of the undergrowth, devouring the distance between them with his long legged strides. At his flanks, his two companions, one pale like the moon and the other the deep red-brown of old blood, matched his swift pace.

  Black as the darkest hour of the night, he was, and in that moment, surly attitude and all, more beautiful than any creature she’d ever laid eyes on. “Shadowdancer!”

  Shadowdancer surged ahead of the others, reaching Sorsha and Lamarra in mere heart beats. He shot past with his head arched high and his tail raised in challenge, before skidding to a halt and facing the direction Sorsha had just come. He sniffed the air for a few moments, snorted, and then spun on his heels and trotted to her side.

  “You’re still being hunted. One of the Elders has been injured. The others are still engaged with the Acolytes, but half of Trensler’s men broke off and are now following your trail. Get on my back. Hurry.”

  For once, she was more than happy to hear and obey one of Shadowdancer’s blunt commands.

  Chapter Nine

  “I still think we should have found a way to warn Father about Lord Master Trensler. He’s a danger to anyone who so much as shares the same air with him.” Lamarra looked deeply unhappy. She held fistfuls of Summer Flame’s mane in a white knuckled grip and exhaustion had cracked her queenly mask. Fear showed through.

  “I don’t think Father possesses what Trensler wants—Father has no magic.” Sorsha studied her sister where she sat Summer Flame with about as much grace and poise as a sack of grain might have managed. The bay stallion had even allowed himself to be fitted with the saddle from Lamarra’s gelding. Luckily he and the half-blood draft gelding were of a similar size.

  Unfortunately, her mare’s saddle hadn’t fit either Shadowdancer or Winter’s Frost.

  When Sorsha suggested the two stallions share Lamarra’s saddle, switching it between them during rests, Shadowdancer had refused, saying he’d rather be sucked dry by Trensler than suffer a saddle on his back. No amount of reasoning on her part had changed his mind. With a sharp mental comment about it being his damn back, the conversation had closed. Unfortunately come day’s end, it was going to be her poor knees and thighs that were sore from trying to protect his spine. She rolled her eyes at another case of misguided male pride.

  At least she was in peak shape, having ridden Shadowdancer bareback for a few candlemarks each night for the better part of the last moon’s cycle.

  “We can’t know that Father’s lack of magic will protect him from Trensler.” Lamarra frowned.

  Sorsha admitted she felt the same bone deep terror, but the General hadn’t gained his rank by being an idiot. “Father’s smart. He would have figured out the Elementals have a specific interest in Ashayna, and that’s why she was taken as a war prize. It won’t have taken him long to realize other members of the family have gained favor among the Santhyrians.” Sorsha tapped Shadowdancer’s shoulder for emphasis. “He’ll guess we might have magic as well.”

  “You’re expecting father to be reasonable. Yes, he’s smart. And yes, he probably figured out everything before we did—but he’s still going to be furious at us for running off.”

  “No, he’d consider it a strategic retreat.”

  “And your General can always blame my brother for your kidnapping,” Winter’s Frost sent from where she scouted some distance ahead. “The Council is already mobilizing an army of mages to aid the three Elders. They’ll warned the General and fill in any details he’s missing.”

  Sorsha could just make out the pale bulky form of the mare through the mist a few hundred paces in the distance.

  Before Sorsha could form an answer, the mare’s mind touched hers again. “That’s the best we can hope for.”

  “You’re right. My father has nothing Trensler wants. Besides if anything happens to the General, there will be war between Trensler’s Acolytes and men loyal to my father.” Even though Trensler hunted her because of it, Sorsha was thankful for her magic. It allowed many benefits. She learned more each day. And fate willing, she’d have an entire lifetime to learn. If Trensler didn’t sniff out their trail again. This morning’s events could have turned out much worse.

  Lamarra cast another look over her shoulder. The fifth in the last hundred paces. Worry itched between her own shoulder blades, and Sorsha was tempted to glance behind.

  “Lamarra if you don’t stop, you’re going to make me jumpy.”

  Lamarra winced. “Sorry. It’s just…I….”

  “I know.” Sorsha didn’t have a so
othing answer. She felt the same nameless unease.

  They rode in silence for a while after that. Shadowdancer’s smooth trot lulled her. Half drowsing on his back, Sorsha closed her eyes for a brief nap. She trusted him to warn her of terrain changes or other dangers. The last few days and nights, while interesting, hadn’t been restful and exhaustion was fast creeping upon her.

  “You’re going to fall and break your neck.” Lamarra commented in a tired voice.

  “Hmmm.” Sorsha said by way of answer.

  Lamarra snorted in a rather good imitation of Ashayna.

  Sorsha grinned, and said, “Careful, you’re sounding like our older sister”

  “At least Ash knows enough not to fall off a horse and get herself killed.”

  Summer Flame arched his neck and looked at his rider. “Sorsha’s in no danger. Perfect balance is a basic level skill of every Herd Mistress.”

  Shadowdancer swished his tail hard enough it slapped along Sorsha’s back. Sorsha felt his tension through her legs where they contacted his sides. Interesting. She wondered what a Herd Mistress was. If she was to guess, she’d say Summer Flame had let something slip, and by the way Shadowdancer pinned his ears and snaked his head toward Summer Flame’s shoulder, it was something Shadowdancer wished hidden.

  First chance she got, she would question the flame bright bay. Preferably when Shadowdancer wasn’t around.

  Shadowdancer cocked an ear back, and his tension doubled. “Horses. Approaching unnaturally fast on the trail behind us.”

  Summer Flame slowed, dancing sideways as his tail flared out behind him. The stallion’s conviction to face the enemy—brave but fatally foolish—was clear as day. By Lamarra’s alarmed look, she didn’t know how to persuade Summer Flame from his plans.

  “Don’t stop. We can’t win in a fight against them.” Shadowdancer swerved, biting at Summer Flame’s flank. Flame squealed and bolted in the direction Shadowdancer left open.

  Sorsha leaned forward, closer to Shadowdancer’s mane as the stallion surged into a gallop, herding the other two Santhyrians ahead of him. The landscape to either side blurred by, yet she felt no fear. They were together, and Shadowdancer could out run even the fastest horse over a distance.

  “Yes, I can out run anything natural and most unnatural creatures, too. But I don’t know what Trensler is or how far reaching his power. When he chased us before, he had already fed upon us and was able to strengthen his men’s horses with magic. If he has now fed upon an Elder’s power, the horses may possess greater endurance.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Sorsha swallowed convulsively, fear sharp and dry in the back of her mouth.

  “Hold on. Don’t fall off. And later, should we survive, I’ll let you reward me with a good rubdown.” Shadowdancer’s mental voice was laced with humor, however, it didn’t cover the touch of panic “If we make it to one of the Wild Path’s permanent archways, we might just live to see another day.”

  From Shadowdancer’s nightly lessons about magic and history, Sorsha remembered a few snippets about the Wild Path. It was a grey world of stone arches and deep mists, able to cut long journeys shorter. A Stallion Mage could summon the magic required to awaken one of the arches he’d mentioned. Ashayna had her own stories to tell of that place. While it was a way to cover great distances in a shorter time, there were other dangers, beasts that hunted in packs and could run down even a Santhyrian over a short distance.

  With a shiver, Sorsha remembered the look in Ashayna’s eyes when she’d told of how Sorntar had been bitten by one of the beasts and nearly pulled off his mount. If Ashayna hadn’t been there that day, Sorntar might not have survived the Wild Path.

  But somehow, with the very real danger of the Acolytes closing in from behind, the threat of unknown beasts didn’t seem so fearsome. “So if we can outrun them and reach the archway first, we’ll be able to lose them on the Wild Path?”

  “Yes, that place confounds even the most experienced hunters; we should be able to lose them there.”

  Sorsha certainly hoped that was the case. She could hear the sound of hoof beats a distance behind them, drawing closer.

  In front of them, Winter’s Frost was pulling ahead. Summer Flame was close on her heels, with a very frightened Lamarra clinging to his back.

  “I’m not fully recovered.” Shadowdancer admitted, his reluctance coming clear across the mind link.

  “Then I’ll just have to even the odds a little in our favor.” Sorsha freed her bow from over her shoulder and drew an arrow from her quiver. As Shadowdancer raced after his two herd mates, Sorsha cast swift glances behind, waiting for the first enemy to reveal himself. Then she’d show him why archery was her second favorite activity. Ashayna wasn’t the General’s only daughter with a warrior’s heart. Even as a child, she’d wanted to ride among the ranks of the Horse Archers in her father’s army.

  She turned, twisting enough to see behind her, but not so much she jeopardized her balance. On the trail behind her, six Acolytes spurred their horses into greater speed. A normal horse couldn’t maintain a Santhyrian’s pace, yet these horses were slowly closing the distance. Sweat lathered their dull coats and bloody foam dripped from their mouths to splatter on their chests and necks. They were close enough she could see blood trickling from their flared nostrils.

  Before another candlemark expired the Acolytes’ mounts would be dead. Sorsha just hoped she and Shadowdancer weren’t already growing cool themselves. She sighted down her notched arrow, focusing on the lead rider. With a twang, the arrow sailed away.

  The Acolyte jerked with the impact. His black robes flared around him. Then barely discernible to Sorsha’s eyes over the distance, something black—a strange coil-like mist, crawled over his form before it bled away. A moment more and he toppled over the back of his horse’s rump and hit the ground with the dead-weight-landing of a corpse. The moment he died his mount stumbled, as all life seemed to go out of it, too. The horse’s front legs folded under it. Momentum slammed the horse’s head and neck into the ground and flipped its hind quarters on top of itself. Sorsha’s stomach churned at the sharp snaps of breaking bones and the heavy wet sound of violated flesh.

  Shaking off the horror of watching the horse go down, Sorsha’s mind reached out to Shadowdancer, “The bastards can die. Just not by magical means. We can win this yet.”

  Another arrow flew true to its mark, slaying a second Acolyte. Hope swelled in her chest. She fit another arrow to the string, and was picking her next target, when she spied more enemies approaching in the distance.

  Many more.

  Curse it. The ones she’d picked off were only advanced scouts. The main group had far too many, fifteen or twenty riders. It was impossible to get an exact count through the trees.

  “Shadowdancer, there are too many. I don’t have enough arrows.” Not that she could take down twenty riders before they pulled her from Shadowdancer’s back, but she decided not to say that aloud.

  “We’re almost to the archway. Take out the rest of the nearest group.”

  Sorsha barked out a short humorless laugh. Easy for him to say.

  She notched an arrow and let it fly. Then another and another until her arms burned with the strain. Some flew wide. Many more found their intended targets. One after another the nearest Acolytes fell to her arrows.

  She faced forward and leaned close to the stallion’s mane once again. Shadowdancer lengthened his stride as the trees thinned. Ahead, a small meadow remained defiant against the encroaching forest. The sun dappled meadow would have been beautiful in other circumstances.

  Shadowdancer didn’t slow as he jumped a fallen tree and bounded into the meadow. Pounding across the grass, he flew toward where Summer Flame and Winter’s Frost waited. He skidded to a halt three paces in front of a sun-blanched stone archway.

  Gods. This close, the thing was huge. Five Santhyrians could ride abreast under its immense curve.

  Sorsha held her breath until her lun
gs burned. Her senses came alive, and the queasiness from killing the Acolytes melted away, fading under the new emotions her Larnkin expelled. Excitement. That was the only word she could think to call the emotion rolling through her Larnkin at the moment.

  Studying the arch, she waved a hand out in front of her as if she could touch the power suspended underneath the stones. Without doubt she stood shadowed by something far more solid than empty air. A chill raised the hair on her arms.

  Viewed through the archway, the trees on the opposite side of the meadow were blurry, their rich greens muted. Everything held a misty quality.

  From her perch on the back of Summer Flame, Lamarra straightened her spine and rubbed her hands across her arms as if cold. Shivering, she looked over her shoulder. “Sorsha?”

  Sorsha barely acknowledged Lamarra.

  She couldn’t.

  Just at that moment her protective shields fell away. A power unlike anything she recalled seeped into her blood, bones, and mind. For many heartbeats, she just sat, absorbing the power, glorying in the sensation to the point she forgot all else. Until the thunder of hooves brought her back from wherever her Larnkin had been daydreaming. Yet it was hard to concentrate with that cold, scentless, weightless power flowing out across the meadow from the still unopened archway.

  It felt like home.

  She forced herself to be calm as she watched the two stallions conjuring magic. She held her breath. Runes carved into the stone began to glow. The white light grew in intensity, shifting hues until it settled on a deep aqua blue.

  So much power.

  But not enough, her Larnkin whispered.

  Eyes closing, Sorsha embraced instinct and expanded her senses outside her body. Her Larnkin urged her on, forcing her to reach further, to touch both Shadowdancer and Summer Flame. The stallions’ minds were open to her. They were exhausted; the Acolytes still fed on them even over the distance. Shadowdancer despaired. He didn’t have enough magic to open the archway even with Summer Flame’s help.